


Say You Like Me

by devnoel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (at first), Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Awkward Castiel, Community: deancasbigbang, Crushes, DCBB 2016, DeanCas MiniBang, Denial of Feelings, Football | Soccer, Football | Soccer Player Dean, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, POV Alternating, Worried Castiel, and i mean bam pow hurt, but he has friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 10:22:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8324167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devnoel/pseuds/devnoel
Summary: “Exactly. You’re obsessed,” Jo said, pointing an accusing finger at him. “and you’re not even trying to hide it."Eyes narrowed, Dean whipped his head around to face her. “Yes, I am. I’m known for my subtlety in these areas.”“Dean Winchester, you’ve been spending the past ten, fifteen minutes practically ogling that poor boy. You might as well be having a neon sign the size of a door flashing ‘I AM SO IN LOVE WITH CASTIEL NOVAK’ strapped across your back.”— Junior year. Truman High. Where Dean Winchester's the jock everyone loves and Castiel's the quiet one who would please like to know why his friends are pairing him up with the Winchester. 'Cause opposites just don't attract.Written for Dean Cas Big Bang 2016 (Mini Bang)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've had the privilege to participate in the DeanCas Challenge this year.  
> A little pang of disappointment on the fact that I've only scraped together a MiniBang — looking forward to managing through actual BigBangs in my following years!
> 
> Art by the wonderful gabester_sketch.  
> Thank you so much for bearing with me over my preoccupied months! :D

_ _

 

 _“Holy,”_ Dean breathed as he stole a thirtieth glance towards his right. “He is _gorgeous.”_

 

Jo let out a pointed sigh and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I think I kind of got that message by now.” It was ten minutes into lunch and they were sitting at a double table in the rowdy cafeteria, Jo holding a vegan Subway and Dean with an untouched plate of lasagna. She picked a slice of cucumber out of her sandwich. “I’m not gonna sit here and watch you pine over some random guy in our year.” 

 

Dean huffed indignantly, breaking his gaze at the dark haired boy two tables away to glare at his friend. “Castiel is _not_ some random guy. He’s the most stunning and attractive human being I’ve ever laid eyes on. Like, how can someone pull off a freaking button-up _so well?”_

Raising her eyebrows, Jo put her hands up in mock surrender at his attitude. “Whoa, chill, Dean. I never said he wasn’t good-looking. But _please,_ you’re worshipping him like he’s the god of your cult or something.” 

 

“I won’t mind him being my god. Hell, I’d love it.” said Dean as he turned to steal another glance at Castiel. “ _Holy shit,_ he’s rolling up his sleeves. I can see his bare arms, _oh my god.”_ His lips tugged into a satisfied grin and he sighed contentedly, falling into his spellbound state as he sat, fixated on every move Castiel made. 

 

“Exactly. You’re obsessed,” Jo said, pointing an accusing finger at him. “and you’re not even trying to hide it.” 

 

Eyes narrowed, Dean whipped his head around to face her. “Yes, I am. I’m known for my subtlety in these areas.” 

 

“Dean Winchester, you’ve been spending the past ten, fifteen minutes practically ogling that poor boy. You might as well be having a neon sign the size of a door flashing ‘I AM SO IN LOVE WITH CASTIEL NOVAK’ strapped across your back.” She rolled her eyes again out of exasperation and took out another slab of the green vegetable. 

 

Waving away her accusations, Dean frowned at the growing pile of cucumbers on the table. “What’s the point of ordering vegan if you’re going to take out all the vegetables?” 

 

“Says the one who’s too busy checking out his crush to eat the actual food in front of him,” Jo deadpanned as she wiped the gravy off her fingers onto a napkin. “and I like vegetables, just not cucumbers.” She blanched at the sight of another slice and gingerly pulled it out with her fingernails. 

 

Sighing out loud, Dean propped his chin on one hand and, out of the corner of his eye, resumed watching Castiel eating his lunch. He idly held his fork with the other for ‘subtlety’, disregarding Jo’s teasing. 

 

Castiel Novak used to be one of the many people Dean didn’t really care about. He transferred to his high school halfway through their sophomore year. With a quiet disposition, Castiel would focus on every word the teacher said in class. Dean was one of the rowdy troublemakers who would constantly pester the teacher with embarrassing questions. Castiel was a grade A student who had two left feet when it came to Phys-Ed, which Dean found cute. He stayed below the social students and remained reserved within his own circle of friends. Dean was football captain slash midfielder and could get all the girls he wanted if he tried. 

 

In other words, Dean and Castiel were absolute opposites. 

 

The whole crush thing started on their junior year during a certain lunchtime he couldn’t recall the precise date of. Dean had been going through the worst of his wayward phase along with his football teammates, and was slowly growing tired of his friends’ antics. He had been tuning out the 

loud talk of his football team that day, staring at an empty table in the far corner when a dark haired boy walked over, entering his field of vision to sit down, alone. 

 

Finding this intriguing, Dean trained his eyes on the boy partly because he had invaded Dean’s empty space of thought, but mostly because the boy seemed utterly unaware of his surroundings, unlike most people who would avoid sitting alone during lunch at all costs. Eating his pasta, the boy seemed alienated from all the noise around him, almost making Dean feel as if he were distant both physically and mentally. 

 

A minute or so had passed when a thought was brought up to his mind: Why had he never seen him before? 

 

His mind was blank. And the boy was just _there_. And his mind was so full of him. 

 

“Zoning out, brother?” 

 

Dean snapped back to reality. Benny raised his brows, his eyes questioning as he cleared up his empty plate. It was one ten; almost time for football practice. For a split second, he rued for having to leave the spot before leaving the hall. 

 

That day he found out that the boy’s name was Castiel Novak, and that they were the same grade. 

 

From then on, he’d been observing the boy whenever he had the chance for months now (“ _Observing,_ ” Jo had taunted. “more like pining; you’re like a damsel mooning over her beloved knight.”), taking in his mop of dark curls, slightly drooped eyes—oh, those too blue eyes—his smooth jawline to how his eyes would narrow and his head would tilt when he didn’t understand something. Every time he laid eyes on Castiel he’d hold his breath as a fluttering, tingling warmth spread through his chest to the tips of his toes, and it was the most pleasant feeling Dean had ever felt. 

 

“Hey. _Hey!”_

_  
_ A hand waving right in front of his face pulled him out of his reverie. Mentally patting himself on the 

back for not flinching in surprise, he turned to face Jo’s disapproving frown. 

 

“Earth calling Dean Winchester, it’s ten minutes before class. In your case, a full scale match which you are awfully not prepared for.” She eyed his school clothes; he hadn’t even changed into his kit yet. “You should probably get on with eating your lasagna,” she gestured towards Dean’s plate where the lasagna sat, just the same as how he got it at the start of lunch. 

 

He looked around the cafeteria, which was slowly emptying up by now. Out of the corner of his eye he could spot Castiel and his bunch starting to collect their trays and standing up one after another. Dean sprang to his feet, grabbing his untouched plate of food. 

 

“Hey, you’re not going to eat that?” asked a bewildered Jo as she scrambled up after him, stuffing down the last few bites of her sandwich. 

 

“Nope.” Using a fork, he scraped his uneaten meal off his plate and into the bin, barely registering the screams of his charitable conscience regarding the starving millions on the other side of the world. “I’m going to ask him something. I’m missing geography today because of the stupid football match, so I don’t see him before Saturday,” he grumbled as he hitched his sack of football equipment up his shoulder. 

 

After poring over their schedules, Dean had realised that they only shared their geography classes; one of the only classes that weren’t divided into level sets. Dull, useless and boring was what he 

used to consider every one of his geography lessons, but since Castiel fell under his eyes he found himself lamenting over the fact that he had that particular subject only twice a week. 

 

“You are _so_ obsessed,” Jo grumbled and stuffed her hands in her jumper pockets as she followed Dean out of the hall. 

 

“Love you too.” 

 

 

❖ 

 

 

 

“Hey, Cassy.” 

 

Castiel looked up from his lasagna to face Gabriel, frowning slightly at the use of his not-so-fond nickname. 

 

His older brother gestured towards his side, a teasing grin lifting up a corner of his mouth. That could _not_ be a good sign, Castiel mused. “Look who’s mooning for you.” 

 

Head tilted in suspicion, he looked to his left and immediately turned back with a deadpan expression to stare at his plate of food. He knew too well who Gabriel had been referring to. “Is there anything wrong with my clothes today?” he asked apprehensively, his eyes searching over his clothes for a smudge, a loose button, a stuck-up collar. 

 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong,” said Anna as she leisurely balanced her fork on her finger, looking over Castiel’s vest. 

 

“You sure?” He rolled up his shirt sleeves to check if he had any ink stains on his arms, then proceeded to reach behind his back to dust off any grime that might be present. “There should be something silly about my appearance for him to stare like that.” 

 

Anna pulled a vexed face. “There is no reason. He’s just _so_ into you, Castiel.” 

 

“Now that’s just being ridiculous,” Castiel dismissively waved away the idea. An absolutely ludicrous idea, in fact, he thought. “He’s already got half the girls in our grade at his feet.” Looking around, he could spot at least six girls in the hall with their possessive gazes fixed on Dean as if he were prize quarry. The fact that Dean seemed oblivious to those stares didn’t seem so remarkable, thought Castiel as tried his best to keep his own face indifferent to Dean’s intense gaze, pretending not to notice. 

 

“Well, that doesn’t mean he should be interested in all of them.” 

 

“Wouldn’t be so sure about that,” said Kevin, grimly taking a bite out of his half-eaten sandwich. He looked around at the thrown off group, giving them an odd look as if wondering if they had forgotten. “Remember? When he was dating three girls at once?” 

 

Gabriel snapped his fingers. “Frankly, I _do_ remember. That was his sophomore year, right? Gods, he was one hell of an annoying guy back then,” He groaned at the unpleasing flashback of Dean throwing sardonic comments at him. “I would have punched him for his irritable sense if it weren’t for my junior report.” 

 

“That was almost two years ago.” Castiel pointed out, repeatedly jabbing at his food with his fork. “He’s less bothersome now. He’s actually trying in class these days, or so I’ve heard.” 

 

At once, an ongoing smirk spread across the table. “Backing up for your future boyfriend, Castiel?” Anna grinned playfully, spearing a stem of asparagus from her dish as she spoke. 

 

“I’m not—” he huffed with frustration, at a sudden loss for words. “I’m just stating the truth, Anna.” 

 

Laughing heartily, his cousin sister playfully elbowed him in the ribs, catching him by surprise and causing him to flinch. “It’s okay, don’t be shy!” she cooed, making the whole table crack up in agreement. 

 

“I don’t appreciate you laughing, so please stop,” he glared at his brother who was practically doubling over with laughter. “Why don’t you go eat with people your own grade? Where’s Kali?” 

 

Gabriel gasped for breath, still laughing. “She’s off for her physics practical. Besides,” he paused to wink at his unamused brother, “Pairing our dear Cassy up with a hot jock is so much more fun than debating about the possibility of obtaining eternal energy.” 

 

Groaning with irritation, Castiel took a moment to take a glimpse at Dean Winchester in order to gesture at him to please look away. Unfortunately for him, Dean had chosen just that moment to turn away and intently talk to Jo Harvelle. Inwardly rolling his eyes in pure annoyance of the situation, Castiel ripped off the plastic fold around his straw and stabbed it into his juice box with unneeded force. 

 

This has been going on for too long, he reckoned grimly. His friends—mainly Anna and Gabriel— had been pairing him up with Dean Winchester for the past couple of months or so, and he found it extremely unsettling. Due to the lack of mutual interests or classes, they were never close enough to care about anymore than each others’ very existence; they had hardly even talked up to their junior year, and suddenly he found Dean being extremely aware of him whenever they were near each other. And of course if Castiel had noticed, his friends had noticed it way back. His status of never having been in a relationship made everything worse; his friends were all but eager to ‘hook them up’. 

 

And Dean Winchester was just not helping, with his one-way staring sessions at lunch times and radiant greetings every time they walked past each other. Castiel had actually been considering to bother preparing pack lunch just to avoid sitting in the cafeteria near Dean, but had later dismissed the absurd thought and adopted the plan of i-did-not-get-your-hints. 

 

Being put through this stressful combination of taunting friends, Dean the Oblivious and the façade of an unperturbed person completely wore him out by the time he got home. He was positively sure that Dean was just messing around by feigning interest in him and throwing strange pick up lines. He did that quite often to all but everyone, to Castiel’s disapproval. Although recently he seemed to be toning down on flirting with random girls... 

 

“Cassy. Castiel.” 

 

“Hm?” He jerked out of his train of thought, looking around to see that all his friends had finished eating and stood up with their trays. 

 

“Time to go,” said Gabriel, waving his wristwatch before his brother’s eyes. “Unless you want to stay here and space out over your lover boy.” 

 

“Where are you going?” Castiel asked as his brother hopped out of the table before everyone else. 

 

“Got to pick up my deadly girlfriend,” he winked and promptly whisked himself away. “You have a good time with your own date!” 

 

They were never going to let go of this, Castiel realised with growing dread as he stacked his empty plate on top of the recycling bin. He fervently hoped that his friends would all somehow suffer partial amnesia, just so that they would get over the whole Dean-business. 

 

“What do we have now?” asked Anna as they walked down the hall to their lockers. 

 

“History and PE; geography and PE for you.” Kevin rattled away in a reflex action, having memorised the timetable by heart. 

 

Castiel groaned as he closed his locker shut after hauling out his books. Geography classes he shared with Dean Winchester along with Anna, and was when two thirds of the nudging and smirking took place, mainly due to the seating plan that sat him right next to Dean himself. 

 

Feeling his chest well up with unease for his next class, he turned around to come nose to nose with— 

 

“Sorry, lads. Mind if I borrow your friend here just for a sec?”

  
He felt a warm hand take hold of his wrist, and he was all but gaping at the boy in front of him as

he tried to comprehend what was going on and _why was Dean within a two metre radius of him?_

 

The surprised look melted from Kevin’s face to revealing a teasing grin. “Any time, Winchester.” 

 

“But no crazed make out sessions, ‘kay? Class is in five minutes and he better not be late.” Anna told him, pulling up a serious, parental look as if she were Castiel’s mother and Dean was taking him out for a—he really needed to stop taking false hints, Castiel thought to himself. It seemed to be doing things to his head. 

 

After a quick nod, Dean practically whisked Castiel away from his locker and laughing friends down the corridor with no warning whatsoever. Every ounce of resistance crumbled in him under the sheer pressure of Dean’s hand around his wrist as Castiel allowed his mind to go blank just by utter astonishment. 

 

Dean finally let go of him as he drove them both into a deserted fire escape just around the corner. “Hey, Cas.” He attempted a small grin as the door slammed shut behind them. 

 

“What—what in the _world_ was that for?” Castiel hissed, rubbing at his wrist as his eyes darted around the deserted area. Despite having attended the school for nearly a year now, he’d never been to any of the fire escapes. He made a mental note to revisit the place after he settled whatever matter Dean Winchester had to deal with him. 

 

He also noticed that they were standing quite close, close enough that he could almost feel Dean’s breath brushing against his forehead, or was it just him? He consciously took a step back just for his personal space. 

 

Dean leaned back against the door, trailing his eyes on Castiel. “I noticed that you seemed uncomfortable talking to me when your friends were around.” 

 

“I—well—yes,” he feebly concurred, choosing to not point out that it was the fact that _Dean_ was around which made him uncomfortable. That was both ambiguous and very revealing, wait, what? 

 

Dean uneasily tugged at the sports sack on his shoulder. He licked his lips before speaking. “So, I wanted to ask you, no, wait. Shit, I’m screwing this up.” He scrunched his lips in frustration and roughly ran a hand through his hair. 

 

All of a sudden, Castiel noticed that Dean was acting very unlike his normal self—he was being restless. The conceited, brash, smart aleck Dean Winchester, renowned for his big talk was running short of his nerves _because Castiel was standing in front of him._

 

“You know prom’s this Saturday, right?”

  
Castiel blinked. He hadn’t been paying much attention to that. “Yes, I just realised.”

 

“Do you want to go with me? Like, to prom?” 

 

The words were rushed out as if they were acid in his mouth that Dean had been waiting quite a while to spit out. Castiel could only stare back, dumbfounded. Not only had he been oblivious to the school dance, deep down in his mind he had been assuming that _Dean Winchester_ out of all people would have found a date already. In fact, he was convinced that he had picked up the corridor whispers of Dean going to prom with— 

 

“I was told that you were going with Lisa Braeden?”

  
Dean gaped at him, brows furrowing into a frown. “No, why would I go with Lisa?” “You two were dating since Christmas.”

  
“No, we never dated. I rejected her at the start of winter break.”

 

Words failed Castiel as he opened and closed his mouth, finally giving up on responding as well as thinking in general; which was something _he_ had never done before. A flock of fiery butterflies surged up from the pit of his stomach, fluttering around his inners as if he were on a plane during take-off. Silence settled around them for what seemed like hours, snowballing up to the point where someone had to break the tension. 

 

“Actually, you know what? You seem pretty dazed at the moment. I do understand, it was pretty sudden.” Dean idly chewed on his bottom lip as Castiel looked up at him. “I should give you time to think over about this,” he gushed, stepping back and slinging his sack back up his arm. “Tell me when you’ve thought of it, okay? I have a match, like, right now, so...” 

 

“Okay,” breathed Castiel as he watched Dean sprint down the emergency stairwell to the ground floor. 

 

As the door on the first floor crashed shut, he allowed himself to go limp, sliding down against the wall as he felt the heated hoard of butterflies raging up his throat and creeping up around his face in a surge of heat. He had been holding his breath without even realising it. He stayed that way, dazed and slumped against the wall for the next few minutes before swinging towards the door leading him back to the school corridors. 

 

 

❖ 

 

 

 

Castiel came running to class late for the first time in his life. “Sorry,” he apologised to Mrs. Barnes, who let him off easily since he'd never had a late on his record before. 

 

“So what was it about?” whispered Anna, leaning over eagerly as Castiel walked past her, still breathing heavily from the run. 

 

“Not telling,” he said under his breath through clenched teeth as he took his seat two rows behind her. The last thing he needed at the moment was his friends nagging him about what happened between him and Dean. He glanced over at the empty seat next to him where Dean usually sat, arms crossed on the table and smiling his usual crooked grin. Expelling the disturbingly attractive image from his head, he held his head in his hands, refusing to think of anything related to Dean for the time being. 

 

Anna promptly held her hand up high. 

 

“Yes, Miss Milton?” 

 

“I was wondering if I could move to sit next to Castiel, because we’re in a pair for the group project,” she explained, pretending not to notice the deadly glare Castiel was sending her from behind; if looks could kill, she would have been smitten by now. “and Dean’s not going to sit there anyways because he’s at the football match.” 

 

Mrs. Barnes contemplated this for a moment. Please, please please, Castiel chanted fervently under his breath. Please say we’re not working on our projects today. All of a sudden, the prospect of copying out questions from the textbook and answering them in different coloured ink seemed very appealing. 

 

“I suppose that might as well do since we’re going to develop our group hypothesis today.” 

 

Things couldn’t have gotten worse, thought Castiel as he moved his bags to make space for Anna on his table, who had a smug smile playing on her lips. He purposefully directed his gaze away from her at an attempt to ignore her pestering. 

 

Leaning over to his side, she cupped her chin with one hand to hide her mouth from moving. “Let’s get talking, then.” 

 

“She’s bound to move you back if you keep distracting me from classwork,” he grumbled under his breath, eyes still fixed on Mrs. Barnes writing down the learning objectives. 

 

Eyebrows raised, Anna towed her bag from underneath the table and took out a notepad and pen to briefly scribble something down before pushing the sheet over. 

 

 

Now, TELL ME.

 

 

Castiel knit his brows in annoyance and pushed the notepad away from him with his elbow. Anna promptly nudged it back, her face edged with stubbornness which Castiel knew better than to ignore. Rolling his eyes in irritation, he took out his own pen. 

 

 

No. 

 

 

Anna frowned, doing her best to put on an imploring expression while writing a reply. 

 

 

Did he ask you out?

 

No. 

 

Did he ask you to prom?

 

Not telling. 

 

Confession of unrequited love?

 

I said, not telling. 

 

Tell me, Cassy.

 

There is no way that I’m going to reveal whatever that’s happened between us, especially not to you. 

 

Why not? :(

 

You full well know why not. Last time I told you that he was staring at me in class, THIS whole thing started up. 

 

Hey, they would’ve found out eventually. Thank me for earning you two supporters.

 

Not helpful. 

 

Of course it is. Now tell me what happened.

 

 

With that, Castiel looked away to face the board, disregarding Anna’s persistent pokes and elbowing. He let his thoughts drift away and out of the room, out of the moment and back to ten minutes ago. 

 

Dean Winchester had asked him to prom. 

 

_Dean Winchester_ of all people had asked _him_ of all people to prom. Castiel had to hold his breath just at the idea of it. 

 

Maybe he was just fooling around like he always was, smoothly flirting with everybody he walked past. If Castiel turned him down, he might just laugh it off and ask another girl happening to pass by. But just now he had seemed unlike his normal, striding self, as if he was being sincere... 

 

What if Dean was serious about this? What if he plain, profoundly liked him? Would Castiel mind accepting him for the school dance, or maybe even longer than that? His blood churned with dread as deep down, he realised that no, he wouldn’t mind dating Dean Winchester. But that couldn’t happen, he told himself bitterly. Dean and he were, so to speak, opposite extremes. They had nothing in common, from their interests to their classes except for geography. Although Dean may care for him with all sincerity, the chasm of difference drove them so far apart that Castiel was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to reciprocate it. And this was all considering that Dean wasn’t going to play him like the numerous girls up his history. 

 

Castiel was afraid of getting hurt. 

 

He slammed his notebook shut in frustration, drawing attention from Anna as well as half the class. Keeping a straight face as though nothing had happened, he trained his eyes on the margins of his notes. Why was he even concerned about this? It wasn’t like Castiel liked him back, right? 

 

Right? 

 

 

❖ 

 

 

 

The heat was unbelievably scorching, considering that it was only early June. As Dean gazed around outside the shade of the team’s tent, he could see the heated haze practically shimmering on the edges of the turf. Sighing with apprehension of having to play out there for the next two hours, he tugged at the edges of his knee socks, rolling them up his calves. 

 

There was no denying that he was upset about what had happened at lunch. Castiel had may as well rejected him; he obviously hadn’t thought of Dean more than just a classmate, judged by his reaction to Dean’s words. 

 

Which made him hurt as well as regretful. Hurt because he had tried his best to win over Castiel’s feelings over the past year. Regretful because if things didn’t work out, he might end up losing a perfectly good person from his life just because he showed his feelings for him. Once again, he leant back in his chair and wished he could pop back in time to punch his past self straight up the jaw. 

 

The match was about to start, and some students who had PE were coming to watch. A gleam of joy gushed through him as he caught sight of Castiel among them, dragged towards the stands by his cousin sister. Whatever that’s happened, he should just suck it up and concentrate on this match, he told himself. He couldn't let his team lose, especially since their opponent was the most aggressive team in the league. 

 

“All right, team.” Their coach, Bobby Singer, clapped his hands as he entered the shade. The team instantly congregated around him in full kit, grinning in expectation. “This is it. We’ve made it this far.” A round of high spirited cheers sounded from Garth and Christian, the defences. Coach Singer acknowledged them with a grin before carrying on. “We’re up against Cain Proprietary, and from the past games I’ve seen that they’re pretty rough. So don’t be afraid to just throw yourselves in, alright? Now get out there and knock yourselves out.” 

 

Whooping with excitement at the coach’s words, they jogged out of the tent one by one with Dean leading them out onto the pitch and into the blaring sun. On the other side of the field, he could see that the opposing team was doing the same, though lacking the enthusiasm. Grave and serious seemed to be their idea. No trace of the loose, get-together vibrance of the Truman High troop was present as they stood individually at attention, their faces stony and wooden. This was going to be a tough game, he thought to himself as he walked up to the centre at the ref’s whistle. 

 

The opponent’s team captain slouched up to meet him. Alastair, he recalled the boy’s name from the team profile. “Should we shake hands or anything?” he offered with a joking smile, which quickly turned into a deadpan as the boy’s mouth curved into a sardonic sneer. Something about this Alastair guy made him uneasy to the bones. 

 

“Sorry, I don’t hold hands with fags. Don’t have any sanitiser with me.” Alastair’s voice was thick as he spat out his words like poison. 

 

Tensing at this, Dean kept his face impassive and held himself back from invading the sneering boy’s personal space. “Listen, you son of a bitch,” he gritted out, “no matter what you say about me, today we’re going to kick your ass straight back to hell where you belong.” 

 

“We’ll see about that,” Alastair smirked as he caught the ball tossed from the referee and bounced it on the ground. “Fancy talking to you again on the next kick off.” 

 

Dean clenched his teeth, refusing to be upset. Alastair was obviously messing with him on purpose, to lure him into fouling. He was never going to let this biased ass get the better of him and his team. With a newly burning objective, he took a few steps back from the ball and waited for the whistle to blow. 

 

 

❖ 

 

 

 

They were given two options: go watch the school team’s football match or stay in the sports hall to create a presentation about healthy lifestyles. 

“I believe that the presentation is going to be both very productive and informative,” said Castiel. “Football it is,” Anna declared as she dragged him outside the hall by the neck of his shirt. 

 

 

❖ 

 

 

 

When the referee whistled to announce half-time, Dean outright scowled, stopped mid-dribble and bent down to brush the dirt off his legs. He had just been leading the ball away from Alastair. Coach Singer was right; Cain Proprietary did not think twice of violence, no matter if it led to a foul. He had lost count of how many times he’d tripped onto the pitch—mainly because of Alastair—and how many times he had to restrain himself from pounding him in the face. 

 

“Too girly for this, Dean?” Alastair cooed with his arms crossed as Dean rose to his feet. “Too delicate for all the action?” 

 

With the back of his hand, Dean wiped the beads of sweat off his forehead as he turned away, about to walk to his team’s tent. “You shut your mouth, or I’ll—” 

 

“Or what? You’ll work me over? But then, maybe you don't want to. Maybe you're, ah, _scared_ to.”

 

Dean snapped. He spun in his tracks to glare into Alastair’s sneering face. He took in a heavy 

breath to resist the tempting urge to give it a solid punch. 

 

Alastair opened his arms out invitingly. “Come on. You gotta want a little payback for everything I did to you. For all the pokes and prods. Hm?” 

 

“Shut up,” Dean whispered, his voice deadly quiet. 

 

His smirk grew wider. “What if I won't?” 

 

“Well, then I’ll just make you shut up.” Dean was this close to losing his temper when he heard cheers and laughter from the stands. Out of the corner of his eye, he recognised people from his grade filling in the stands. Of course. Everyone in his grade had PE last lesson—they would be allowed to come watch. 

 

—Castiel may have come to watch him. 

 

The thought blew some reason into his fuming mind. There was no way he was going to start a fistfight and get banned from the game in front of Cas just because of some snarky ass he would never see again after an hour or so. 

 

“Listen,” he hissed. “I know where you’re heading at. And I’m telling you that it’s never going to happen, so you can take all your smart-ass vocabulary and stick it right where the sun doesn’t shine.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned back and trod down the pitch to his team’s tent where the players were taking a break. 

 

“Trouble with the captain over there?” asked Christian, nodding his head towards where Dean just walked over from. 

 

Dropping down onto a stool, Dean popped open a bottle of water from the freezer. “Nothing much,” he gasped after taking a long, icy chug. “I handled it.” _At least I tried to,_ he thought grimly as he tossed the half empty bottle into his sack. 

 

“Just don’t give a shit about it. You know he’s just trying to get on your nerves. Keep your cool, Dean.” Benny clapped a hand around Dean’s shoulder, almost tipping him off the stool. 

 

“Yeah, thanks.” Dean reached over for a towel to mop at the sweat up and down his arms and neck. He spotted Samandiriel tending to his knee a few feet away from him, hugging his legs over his stool. “How’s your knee? Seemed like you fell pretty hard.” 

 

Samandiriel winced as he dabbed ointment onto the scraped skin at a feeble attempt to wipe away the blood. “It should be fine,” he said, his voice trembling still. “I don’t think it’s going to scab. I can still run.” Azazel, the opponent’s attacker, had tripped him over ‘involuntarily’ which ended up in Samandiriel having to run with a bleeding knee. 

 

Half-time was short lasting, and soon Dean found himself hauling the team back onto the pitch. 

 

“Go get ‘em, boys!” Coach Singer yelled after them. 

 

Dean joined in the team’s cheers without thought as he ran through the people sitting at the now full stands, eyes searching for messy dark hair and blue, blue eyes. It didn’t take long before he caught sight of Cas sitting with his friends, although he couldn’t quite distinguish his expression. “Okay,” he whispered to himself. “Let’s do this.” 

 

 

❖ 

 

 

 

“Came to see your boyfriend play?” asked Kevin as Castiel approached the bleachers with Anna by his side. 

 

Castiel glowered at him as he sat himself down under the shades, taking in the view of the open football pitch. Much alike him, the early summer sun glared down on the figures walking up to the edge of the field. They had arrived just in time for the second half of the game. 

 

Both teams seemed weary from the first half—which was unusual, since the Truman football team was known for its undying stamina. He could see their school’s team freshening up at the tents; a pack of sturdy boys dressed in full football kit complete with shinguards knee socks. They were either stretching or laughing among themselves over some joke. 

 

Much contrasted with the surly team gathered around the other side. They entertained no humour among them, only to nod along to an impassive coach briefly inform them about their tactics. A quick glance at the scoreboard told him that they were from Cain Proprietary, along with the current score; a tie at 0:0. 

 

“They look so happy to be here, don’t they?” 

 

Looking up, Castiel saw Balthazar with his usual sarcastic smirk on his face. “Balthazar,” he greeted as he scooted over to make space on the stands, followed by Charlie and Jody. 

 

“We were let out late,” explained Jody, sighing with relief as she entered the cool, shaded area. “Mrs. Harvelle wouldn’t let us go until she lectured us on basic audience manners, like, we already know perfectly well not to throw coke cans onto the pitch, thank you.” 

 

“Where’s Donna?” Anna asked, moving over as Jody flopped down on the seat next to her. 

 

She frowned her brows in disapproval. “You know. Doug wanted to do the boring health Powerpoint and she just _had_ to do it with him.” Tutting at her friend’s decision, she stretched out her arms in a matter-of-fact way. “Oh, well. Her loss. I’d much rather watch the match.” 

 

Chuck Shurley, a senior known for his uncanniness, was standing near the centre line as referee with a gleaming whistle around his neck. At the first shrill of the whistle, the teams dispersed to 

their positions, ready to spring out. Castiel caught sight of Dean, slightly worn out but determinedly treading up to the centre circle for the kick off. He shifted slightly in his seat—the lunchtime event had led him to being painfully conscious of anything that had to do with Dean—whether it was out of a positive or negative sense he wasn’t so sure. 

 

“Only Dean Winchester could pull off bright red shorts with white knee socks and get away with it,” Anna muttered, squinting to get a better look at the team arranging into their formation. 

 

“ _Striped_ knee socks,” groaned Kevin, shuddering as if the very thought bothered him. “the school’s insane.” 

 

“Regrettably, they are the school colours.” Castiel eyed the opponent captain trudging up from the other side to face Dean. They seemed to converse for a while when Dean suddenly scowled before forcing himself to remain impassive, whereas the opponent sported an ongoing sneer. 

 

“I have a bad feeling about this—they’re provoking him.” Jody grimaced uneasily. 

 

“This game is _so_ not going to be gentle,” agreed Kevin as he warily eyed the other captain’s smirk as he handed Dean the ball. 

 

With the ear-piercing whistle, the second half of the match started. Immediately jumping into action, Dean made a quick pass to Benny, who advanced to the other side, driving it past two of the opponent’s attackers only to be intercepted by one of their defence—Nick, Castiel could make out from the name tag stuck to the back of his uniform. 

 

The speed of the game was so overwhelming—the player in possession seemed to switch every two seconds—that Castiel eventually gave up on keeping up with the ball and instead focused on Dean, who not only nimbly sprinted in chase of the ball, but also positioned himself and called out for passes. His legs handled the ball in smooth, mesmerising movements which Castiel would never dream of managing himself. 

 

Hardly two minutes had passed when Garth was sprawled onto the turf by opposition player Tyson Brady, making the whistle shrill and the spectators groan in disdain. With a sudden jolt, Castiel realised why the Truman team had looked so weary during break; they were facing a rough opponent. 

 

His theory was confirmed when Samandiriel and opponent Crowley collided headfirst while fighting over a ball in midair, resulting in them both crumpling over onto the turf. In a heartbeat Crowley jumped back onto his feet, unharmed, but Samandiriel remained on the ground with his limbs flailing about. The crowd gasped in shock as the boy blindly groped at his bleeding eye in apparent pain. 

 

“Talk about foul play,” Charlie spoke under her breath as she watched the medics take out the injured boy on a stretcher. “they’re in for blood.” 

 

“I wish he’s going to be all right,” whispered Anna with her hands clasped. 

 

“The only reason I didn’t join the team was that the try outs clashed with my cello lessons,” said Kevin, his voice tight. “I’m feeling really lucky about that right now.”

 

“Have you ever watched Cain Prep’s girls’ team play?” asked Jody as she wryly watched Ennis Milligan running onto the field as Samandiriel’s substitute. 

 

“No.”

  
“Don’t.” She shook her head with such graveness that Castiel chose not to ask about the details.

 

“I watched their team go against St. Michael’s,” said Charlie with a shudder. “It was terrible. One of the attackers—Lilith, I think—she started clawing at Hannah’s arms when she scored three goals. I think she’s still scarred.” 

 

“Well, that's...” At a loss of words, Castiel turned back to the field to see Benny lining up for a penalty kick. Drawing back, he delivered a well-aimed shot only to have the goalkeeper lunge towards it and swat it away in a single, vicious swipe. The stands groaned bitterly as Benny jogged backwards, his face sheepish as Dean ran over to give him a reassuring pat on the back. 

 

The game resumed. Gordon Walker streaked across the field, breaking through the opponent’s left defence by passing the ball back and forth with Ash, and was just about to reach the goal area when the attacker Azazel cut off a heel pass made by Ash. 

 

Balthazar sighed in disappointment next to Castiel. “We’re never going to get past their defence.” 

 

Castiel nodded without thought, letting his eyes roam across the field to find Dean, who was madly motioning for Ennis to move forward. 

 

The opposition seemed to have changed their strategy to an outright offensive one now, their formation altering so that more players lined up along the centre line. Attacker Samhain dribbled the ball past Christian Campbell despite his interfering, and passed it straight to Azazel who smiled maniacally—“He’s actually smiling,” muttered Kevin—before drawing his foot back to deliver a clean, smooth shot that sailed past Victor’s fingers and straight into a goal. 

 

Charlie flopped back against her backrest, unbothered to hide a drawn out groan of disappointment as the opponent team congratulated each other. “ _Damn,_ ” she snarled. “they’re really tough.” 

 

Balthazar shrugged, and Castiel could see that his friend was holding back from pouring buckets of insults on his own school team. “Or maybe our defence is just being useless.” 

 

“It’s only twelve minutes into the second half,” Jody said hopefully. “we could score later on.” 

“Dean’s actually refraining from swearing at his team,” observed Anna. 

 

Castiel easily found Dean, who had a strained but determined smile on his lips as he instructed his team on their revised tactics, and couldn’t stop himself from letting out a gush of admiration at the team captain’s patience before catching himself from almost sending heart-eyes at Dean Winchester. He really needed to keep his composure, or he might actually end up actually growing fond of Dean. He couldn’t risk that happening. 

 

 

 ❖

 

 

 

Dean Winchester couldn’t think. He was out of breath, out of mind. They had lost Samandiriel because of those asses smirking at them from the opposite half of the pitch, and his gut lurched with rage just at the thought of it. The team was staggering now, having lost one of their best defences. They weren’t used to gameplay as foul as this. 

 

He motioned at the team for a quick gather-in, noting that Ennis was still left standing on the field. “Get over here, Ennis!” He realised that his tone had been harsh. He tried again. “Just quickly gonna gather in, come join us.” 

 

Ennis did as he was told, his face stiff with tension. In the back of his head, Dean recalled that it was Ennis' first time in an actual game. “So we’ve lost Samandiriel, and we’re up for a rough game. So what?” He looked into each player in the circle. “We’ve still got us. I know what you lot are capable of. I know we can win this—” His serious face dropped in mid-sentence. “Man, I’m horrible at this chick flick speech thing.” He smiled as the circle burst into laughter, having broken the tension. 

 

“No chick flick moments,” quoted Garth in his best impression of Dean. 

 

“Exactly. Also try not to foul,” Dean eyed at the couple of disappointed faces, “although I understand it’s going to be hard. It’s going to be bad for us if they get free kicks because of us playing dirty right back at them.” He looked around to see most of his teammates nodding in agreement. “Now let’s get back there and try not to get any outs.” 

 

They broke the circle and scattered into their positions. With the whistle Victor kicked off, starting an intense competition among the midfielders who fearlessly slid on the turf to claim possession of the ball. Dean practically threw himself before Samhain to intercept an overhead pass and kicked it over to Ash, who breached the centre line by giving the defence the slip before kicking it over to Gordon, positioned near the goals and ready. 

 

“Take your time, Gordon,” Dean called out while jogging over, but he soon found that there was no need. He saw the calculating look in Gordon’s eyes as he drew his foot back and in a split second, knew he wouldn’t miss. The ball glided past the goalkeeper’s outstretched arms and crashed into the net, which rolled with the contact. 

 

The onlookers cried out of glee and out of the corner of his eye, Dean thought he could see Cas' face breaking into a wide smile as he cheered—or maybe just in his head. The team congregated around the centre line to give Gordon a merry pat. 

 

Dean joined their circle to give a playful smack on the back. “Good job there. Keep it up, alright?” 

Grinning madly, Gordon nodded and kept his smile even when the whistle signalled for the game to resume. The score was now a tie at 1:1, and the team spirit was burning wildly. As if to redeem the loss, the opponent’s attackers lunged forward, nimbly driving past the centre line before Christian sprinted to jump up in front of Nick, trapping the ball with his chest and passing it to Dean, who bounced it to the ground for proper control. 

 

With quick paced dribbles he drove an attack on the left hand side of the pitch before finding himself sailing ground wards as Alastair’s legs tangled with his in claim for the ball. Immediately, the whistle shrilled across the pitch, announcing a free kick. Although the crowd groaned in disappointment, Dean couldn’t stop his lips from grinning in anticipation as he scrambled to his feet —he’d been looking forward for his own free kick all along. He hardly registered the dull ache in his stomach from the fall as he lined himself up in position. 

 

He let his body to relax and become oblivious to the fact that Castiel was watching him. After a quick, surveying glance he pulled back and gave the ball a smart punt just where he need to. Dean watched with his breath held as the ball barrelled through the air and for just a second, a small twinge of concern flitted through his mind before the ball grazed the goalpost, sailed past the goalie and bounded into the net. He let out an exulting breath as the stands erupted once more. 

 

“You go, Dean!” Garth clapped a hand over his shoulder as his teammates gathered in once more. “We’re a goal ahead!” 

 

“Someone’s proud of you!” He heard a distant, high-pitched call from the bleachers and turned to see Castiel with a hand over his cousin sister’s mouth, speaking unintelligible words he was too far away to hear. 

 

“Hear that? Looks like someone’s proud,” Ash grinned teasingly, being one of the people who knew about Dean’s crush. 

 

“Shut up,” he shot back playfully as he spied Alastair not so far away from them, fuming with indignation. Knowing that it wasn’t a wise decision but not caring about it, he smirked at the raging striker, just like he had done to Dean for the past hour and a half, and mouthed: “You said you wanted payback.” 

 

Alastair shot him a menacing look before breaking the gaze and walking away to the centre circle. Sure that he got the better of him, Dean smiled and positioned himself as the opponent goalkeeper Guy retrieved the ball, surveying the field as he prepared to resume the game. 

 

As if by magic, Ennis cleared out the seething attack of the opposing team in less than half a minute, and Dean found himself dashing up to the opponent’s area once again as Mark and Benny drove the ball forward and kicked an overhead pass, which bounced a few feet away from him. Instinctively sensing a chance at a sliding shoot, he ran towards the ball for momentum before sliding on the turf, one leg stretched out to strike it into the goals when an overwhelming force barrelled into his side, lurching him over. 

 

It wasn’t like slow-motion on TV. More like a sudden lurch in time that makes you hyperaware of everything around you. 

 

In the split second when Dean was toppling to the ground, his eyes closed on their own accord and pulled him under darkness right before his head was forcefully smashed into the ground. Under the sensation of a horrible take-off racking his body, he could hardly feel whatever that had rammed into him collapsing above him, crushing his dazed skull before rolling off of him. 

 

Dean lay there in a helpless heap, unable to open his eyes let alone move a finger. _Strange,_ he thought absently. _This feels like anaesthetics_. He felt the raging adrenaline in his blood and the fierce pain coursing through his skull being silenced by the smooth, numb sensation. His senses dulled, barely allowing him to hear the concerned voices surrounding him and shouting incoherent words. 

 

He had just enough time for a sigh before giving way under the blissful shadows. 

 

 

❖ 

 

 

 

He could swear that the everyone on the stands drew in a breath in unison. Castiel sat there, dazed. His friends, along with the most of the crowds, were surging out of their seats to run onto the pitch and all he could do was keep his eyes locked on the limp form lying on the pitch. Even the referee seemed rooted to the spot, letting the students gather around the scene. 

 

“I just knew that god damn jerk would be no good,” snarled Balthazar as he watched Alastair roll to his feet beside Dean, unharmed. “I’m getting up there.” He leapt to his feet and sprinted down the steps, followed by a whole row of spectators. 

 

“What are you doing? Get over here!” Anna yelled, jerking Castiel out of his seat by his arm and dragging him down the stands. 

 

Castiel let himself be led onto the grassy field to the circle huddled around Dean. As he approached them, the glimpse at the listless body compelled him to tear away from Anna’s grip and break into a run, pushing people out of his way until he was barely a foot away from him. Him. 

 

“Dean,” he whispered without thought. Dean’s eyes stayed closed. Castiel couldn’t force himself to think properly. This had nothing to do with his personal feelings, he was just worried about his classmate because he wouldn’t open his eyes for some insane reason, there was no other meaning to this— 

 

“I think he’s shaken,” explained the coach as he led the medic into the circle. Castiel stepped over to make way for them. “He fell headfirst, must’ve been some damage.” 

 

The school nurse—Tessa, Castiel absently recognised—bent over Dean’s arm to examine the back of Dean’s head, her straight black hair falling over the side of her face. After a painstaking moment in which Castiel couldn’t breath, she looked up. “I think he’s just blacked out, but we’ll have to take him to a hospital for an accurate diagnosis; there may be risks of concussion.” She gently put Dean’s head back on the turf. 

 

“Okay, so we’re taking him to the hospital and we need someone to call up his family to come pick him up after the check up.” The coach glanced down at Dean with worry. 

 

“Sam’s at a public service camp,” whispered Ash. “He won’t be back till the weekend.” 

 

Johnny tentatively raised his hand. “What about his paren—” 

 

“Okay, okay. So we’ll have to drive him home after the doctors’.” Coach Singer cut him off in mid- sentence, looking around the crowd. Castiel silently exhaled in relief. Those who knew were aware that Mary Winchester had passed away due to a house fire and their father had set adrift, dropping by home only once in a while. “We need a guide. Anyone know where he lives?” 

 

Castiel was just about to step forward when something in his mind made him hesitate. He was wary of interacting with Dean and getting close to him. He was wary of getting hurt. 

 

While he was in silent conflict, Anna prodded his side. He winced but refused to speak up. There should be someone who knew his address other than him, right? Dean was the junior jock, of course there would be. Jo would definitely know. Breaking his stare from Dean, he searched the crowds to find Jo giving Anna a meaningful look and a wink as she pointed at Castiel. 

 

“Castiel knows,” Anna promptly said, shoving him in front of her. Stumbling forwards, he felt the everyone’s eyes pin him like a target. _“Go get ‘em, tiger,”_ she quoted Dean under her breath. 

 

“I happen to live three houses away from him,” he said almost reluctantly, glowering ominously at both Anna and Jo, to which they responded with an implied grin. 

 

“Great, so you can help us get him home.” The coach beckoned him to follow. “Tag along, we’re driving to St. Michael’s. Meanwhile, you lot—” he gazed around at the dejected team, standing around with concerned looks. “you all can keep on playing. Get Adam off the benches, he’s going to sub for Dean. We’ve got fifteen minutes or so left, make sure to kick their asses as much as you can.” 

 

_This had nothing to do with his personal feelings, he was just taking his classmate home because nobody else stepped up and mostly because Anna made him, there was no other meaning to this,_

Castiel chanted to himself as he followed the coach making their way off pitch with Dean’s arms slung across their shoulders, but couldn’t shake off the heavy weight of concern settling within him. 

 

 

 ❖

 

 

 

He dreamt of a familiar shade of blue. 

 

 

 ❖

 

 

 

Castiel had known that Dean was sturdy and athletic, but he hadn’t expected him to be this much of a load. He staggered as he strained to hold up a slumped Dean while the coach gave the limp boy a pat-down to find the key to the front door. 

 

“Got it,” he said as the key slid home, clicking the lock open. “Now to find out which room’s his.” 

 

It wasn’t so hard, given that Dean went nuts whenever Traveling Riverside Blues played. Castiel didn’t even know how he remembered the fact but dismissed the thought when he entered a room with its walls plastered with Led Zeppelin and Metallica posters. They both lugged the unconscious boy across the room, tossing him onto the bed. 

 

“Thanks for the help,” Coach Singer said, stretching out his cramped shoulders. 

 

“No problem,” breathed Castiel as he brushed a hand through his hair, looking down at Dean. 

 

“You know, I’m really worried about Dean and all that and I hate myself for having to say this, but I have to go check the team supposing that the match ended a while ago. And you know the doctor said that someone needs to stay with him just as a precaution...” He trailed off, giving Castiel an imploring look. 

 

“It’s perfectly fine, you can go back. I’ll watch over him.” 

 

“Thanks, I’ll come back as soon as possible, and oh. You’ll have to call Sammy up to tell him what happened.” 

 

He frowned. “I don’t have his brother’s number.” He didn’t even have Dean’s number, he realised with some bitterness. 

 

Coach Singer patted at his vest pockets before silently cursing. “Crap, I don’t have my cell with me. Just use his phone,” he gestured at the tranced boy. “dig around his contacts.” 

 

“I’ll handle that as well.” 

 

After giving him an appreciative nod, Coach Singer quietly left the room. Castiel instantly felt uneasy for some reason, being in the unfamiliar environment alone with Dean Winchester. But a 

certain side of him was urging him to roam about; he had wondered what the boy’s room would look like. But to have Dean right within an arms reach... Trying very hard to calm down his breathing, he reached over and unslung the duffel pack from Dean’s shoulder where the coach had put. 

 

With a twinge of guilt he delved through the sack, pulled out Dean’s cell phone and was surprised when he found that it didn’t have a passcode. Scrolling through the endless contacts which were at least quadruple the number of contacts he had himself, Castiel found the name ‘Sasquatch’ and recalled Dean referring to his brother that way while talking to Jo. 

 

There it was again. Him holding onto random memories of Dean. The memories then proceeding to surface on random occasions. Refusing to think about it, he hit Call and averted his attention to the ringtone. Metallica, he noted. It took a while for Sam to pick up. 

 

[Hello? Dean?] 

 

Castiel stood up, instinctively leaving the room for the call. “Uh, no. This is Castiel, I’m your brother’s—” he fumbled for a sufficient description. “—classmate.” 

 

[Ah. So you’re Cas.] 

 

Biting his lip from dismissing the nickname because how was _Dean's little brother whom he barely knew_ calling him by that, he hardly noticed the tone in Sam’s words that suggested that he had been aware of Castiel beforehand. For a split second, he wondered if he should ask for it, but this was _Dean’s brother whom he hardly knew_ and he needed to have courtesy towards him. “Yes, that would be me.” 

 

[Well, may I ask why you’re calling me with my brother’s phone? Did anything happen to him?] Even over the phone, Castiel could hear the tinge of concern in his voice. 

 

“Well, your brother, he had a light concussion during his football match about half an hour ago,” he glanced up at the clock. “I was told to inform his near family about it, and was had to go through his contacts list on his phone.” 

 

[Oh my god, that _goddamn_ jerk... Can’t go a week on his own without knocking himself out cold.] 

 

Castiel let Sam fume by himself for a while. It was truly understandable, he himself would be upset if Gabriel had hurt himself while he was away. “I believe he’s going to be okay, the medics confirmed that it was nothing serious than a bruise. He'll be waking up soon. I’ll stay by him just in case his conditions become worse.” 

 

[Yeah, well... Thanks, Cas. I really appreciate it.] 

 

“No problem.”

  
[Hey, wait.]

  
Castiel edged his thumb away from End Call. “Yes?”

 

[Uh, so do you know my brother well?] 

 

“Sadly, I’m afraid not. We hardly even talk,” he said, wistfulness slipping in his voice before he could catch himself. 

 

[Thought so. Bashful bastard,] he muttered to himself unintelligibly. [Anyways, I just wanted to tell you that he’s not that much of an asshole as he might seem. Just saying.] 

 

“Yes, I might have realised that earlier.” Castiel glanced back into the bedroom, making sure that Dean was remaining in his neutral state. “He’s a kind person.” 

 

[You’re right, he is. Oh, and thank you for helping my jerk of a brother out.] 

 

“My pleasure.” 

 

 

When the call dropped, he snapped the phone shut and placed it on the bed-stand before carefully sitting himself down on the bedside stool. He watched the mesmerisingly slow rise and fall of Dean’s chest. Everything seemed so placid and his heart was racing as if yes, this was where he was meant to be. He suddenly noted that unlike before the call, he felt comfortable. He could stay like this, sitting beside Dean and watching him sleep for days and not grow tired of it. 

 

_This had nothing to do with his personal feelings, he was simply watching over him just in case his state got worse and required medication, there was no other meaning to this..._

 

Dean stirred, opening his green eyes to gaze up at his. “Cas,” he breathed. This had everything to do with his personal feelings. 

 

The boy before him squinted his eyes in concern, wincing a little as he attempted to sit up against the propped up pillow. “Cas, you all right?” 

 

“I’m fine.” Castiel had never liked the word ‘Cas’. He found it an unnecessary abbreviation, especially since Gabriel found it convenient to tamper into a girl’s name, which he disliked even more. But the way Dean said it, something in his voice made him tingle all over. 

 

“You sure? Because you look like the one that’s bumped his head, all spaced out over there.” 

Castiel blinked, breaking his gaze from him to look at the bed-stand. Something in him felt fit to cry 

at how Dean, with a _concussion,_ had the head to worry about _him._ “Yes, I am pretty sure.” 

 

After a few moments, Dean shuffled under his covers and put a hand on the back of his head, where a gauze had been plastered on. He winced. “You know, Cas. What I asked you at lunch...” he trailed off before setting his jaws and continuing. “it’s really okay if you don’t want to. You don’t have to—” 

 

“Dean.” 

 

“Cas.” A short pause. “I like you, I really do.” 

 

Castiel could practically feel the sincerity burning through the so-green gaze, along with the surge of heated butterflies flittering up his insides once more and he tried so desperately to hold back— but found no reason to do so anymore. With his mind now blank and his heart racing, he felt the building tension in his throat as the butterflies drifted up and he opened his mouth to let them out, to draw in a breath, to just _say something_ — 

 

“I,” he blurted out. He cleared his throat, carefully chose his words over in his head. “I like you too, Dean.” 

 

 

 ❖ 

 

 

 

Dean felt his jaw drop. “What?”

  
Castiel clapped a hand over his face. “I’m not saying this again,” he muttered, clearly flustered.

 

“Wow.” If it weren’t for the throbbing pulse in the back of his head, Dean would’ve told himself that this was a dream. “This is impossible,” he mumbled as he broke into a grin. 

 

“Some things are indeed impossible, but this doesn’t seem to be one of them.” 

 

They sat there for a while in comforting silence, smiling and drinking in each other’s existence like a bunch of saps. The pain suddenly seemed to fade away, leaving him in a swirling confusion of thoughts with a swooping feeling of nausea. 

 

“So, prom?” he asked, before silently cursing himself. That just had to be the first thing that came up in his sore head. 

 

Castiel smiled at him just the way he loved—the one with crinkled blue eyes. “Prom.”


End file.
